


The Return of Nightbird, or Six Times Kurt Meets a Superhero

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The unexpected (at least to Kurt) return of the Nocturnal Avenger and the Secret Society of Superheroes!  Blam!  Pow!</p><p>Bushwick futurefic, set within the next year or so, after Blaine’s graduation, spoilers assumed through but not past 5x05 (“The End of Twerk”)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Return of Nightbird, or Six Times Kurt Meets a Superhero

The first time Kurt barely registers what he sees.

He drags himself into the loft with the last dregs of his energy, dropping his bag by the door and his keys on the floor beside them. He doesn’t care that he’ll hear about the clutter from Rachel; he just doesn’t have the energy to carry them one more step. It’s a long way from work at the diner back to Bushwick even on a good day, and today is absolutely not a good day. All he wants to do is lie down and possibly never move again.

It isn’t until he’s halfway to the bedroom that he even notices that he’s not alone in the apartment.

“Kurt?” Blaine says, startling him into awareness. “What are you doing home?” The question sounds a little abrupt, and he clearly deliberately moderates his tone when he continues. “I mean, aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I think I have that twenty-four bug Rachel had,” Kurt says, pressing a hand to his roiling stomach. “I feel horrible.” He turns toward the kitchen table to find Blaine, Sam, and Artie sitting there.

Kurt blinks at them. Sam’s wearing a suit Kurt hasn’t seen before, Artie has some sort of bald cap on his head, and Blaine... Blaine’s wearing this odd, black and blue jumpsuit with bits of armor on it and a _cape_. They have some sort of map spread out on the table. There also seems to be a gavel by Blaine’s right hand.

Blaine clears his throat and smiles nervously.

Kurt looks from Sam to Artie to Blaine and back again. Nothing about the image in front of him changes. It doesn’t make any more sense. “What on _earth_ are you - No, you know what? I just need to go to bed.”

He turns on his heel and leaves them to whatever it is they’re doing. He feels too awful to worry about it.

Barely managing to step out of his shoes, Kurt collapses face-first onto the bed, only rousing some time later when Blaine helps him into his pajamas and coaxes him to take a few sips of water before getting under the covers for good.

When he wakes up twelve hours later with Blaine curled sweetly on the other side of their bed in his normal navy pajamas Kurt tries to remember what exactly he’d seen in the blur of his illness-addled mind... and finally writes off the whole thing as a hallucination brought on by whatever medication Santana had given him before he left the diner.

 

The second time is more of a surprise.

“That is the _last_ time I will ever use a Groupon for a day spa,” Rachel announces as Kurt pulls open the front door of their building so that she and Santana can precede him inside. “How can they call it a manicure if they only are going to do one hand? It’s an outrage!”

“It explains why it was so cheap,” Kurt says without much heat, because it’s not like they haven’t had this conversation three times in full on the walk home from their failed spa afternoon.

“I still think we should have stayed for the facials,” Santana says, climbing the stairs in front of Rachel.

“Are you kidding me? God knows what they would have done!” Rachel replies. “Only exfoliated one side of our faces? Put a mask on but refused to take it off?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Kurt tells her. “They’re a reputable spa. Their Yelp reviews were good. There must have been a mix-up somewhere.”

“I am not trusting my skin care to Yelp, Kurt. My face is my second most important moneymaker after my voice,” Rachel says, gesturing to her face and then pointing at him. “Just like you. One bad facial, and it could all be over for either of us.”

“But _my_ face isn’t important?” Santana asks, digging out her keys from her coat pocket as they reach the door to the loft.

“Oh, your moneymakers are your breasts,” Rachel says with a dismissive shrug. “You’d be fine.”

Santana cocks out her hip and raises her eyebrows. “Excuse me? Have you seen my tips at work? They’re bigger than yours.”

“Yes, _they_ are,” Rachel says with a very pointed look at Santana’s chest. “Not that your voice isn’t also good, but we all know what’s bringing in the money.”

“First of all, I’ve got both T _and_ A - “ Santana begins sharply, and Kurt plucks her keys from her hand before they can be used as a weapon.

“Come on,” he says, unlocking the door, “let’s go inside and do mud masks and talk trash about the rest of the waitstaff instead of standing out here pretending we’re on Jerry Springer.”

“I am not - “ Santana starts, but the words cut off sharply when they slide open the door and walk inside to find Sam, Blaine, and Artie at the kitchen table again, dressed in those same strange outfits Kurt was so sure he had imagined. The gavel is there, too.

“Um, what are you guys doing?” Rachel asks as Kurt stands there in shock.

“Is it dork home night and nobody told me?” Santana asks.

Artie nervously adjusts the lack of hair on his head and says, “Well...”

“Actually, we’re totally super-” Sam begins with excitement.

“It’s a club!” Blaine says over them. His words are brisk, and his smile is tight and forced. His eyes flick to Kurt’s and away again. “We were in a club together at McKinley, and we thought we should keep it going in New York.” His unusually bland expression remains fixed on his face.

Kurt just stares at them for a moment, because clearly he had _not_ been hallucinating the other week, and how is that actually not comforting? He takes a breath and looks again.

It’s weird, yes. Very weird. Blaine seems nervous and has some sort of plea in his eyes, but Kurt’s pretty sure that’s because they walked in on them, not because he is being coerced into a terrible peer pressure situation he needs to be rescued from. And Sam and Artie are his friends, so Kurt has to trust they are all okay.

So Kurt makes himself trust. Even if this is _crazy_.

“Well, the spa was a bust, so we’re going to do a spa night here,” he says, and he sees the relief bloom across Blaine’s face at the change of topic. “Manicures and mud masks in our pajamas, a bottle of wine, and lots of gossip.”

Rachel slides her hand possessively through Kurt’s arm. “No boys allowed except for Kurt. Even if you could all use the exfoliation. Well, not Blaine. He has an excellent skin care regime.”

Kurt smiles at her in thanks, because yes he does.

“Let’s do it in Kurt’s room,” Santana says. “He has better toys to dig out once he’s too tipsy to stop me.”

“We’ll be doing it in _Rachel’s_ room,” Kurt announces to the room at large, and he will _not_ miss Santana being so nosy when he and Blaine move out someday; it’s so annoying in the heat of the moment to have to dig for things hidden deep in drawers and boxes. “I’ll get the supplies. Santana, you get the wine. Rachel, you go hide anything you don’t want Santana to find.”

Rachel rushes off to her part of the loft, and Kurt makes sure to shut the privacy curtain once he and the girls are tucked inside. He knows they won’t want to be watched as they primp and chat over their drinks, and clearly the boys don’t, either.

They hear a few loud outbursts from the boys in the living area, including one that sounds suspiciously like a war whoop by Artie that’s so startling it almost makes Kurt paint Santana’s finger instead of her nail, but by the time they all stumble out, a little wobbly on their feet from the wine, to wash off the dried masks, Sam and Artie are gone and Blaine’s back in regular clothes and sitting on the couch watching a documentary.

“Everything okay?” Kurt asks when he walks back from the bathroom, fresh faced and only a touch dizzy but delightfully warm from the alcohol in his veins and all of the new gossip he has heard.

“Yeah, you?” Blaine lifts his arm to offer him the spot beside him, and Kurt tucks himself happily into his favorite spot with Blaine’s arm falling around his shoulders.

“Just fine,” Kurt says with a smile. He sighs against Blaine’s warm chest and closes his eyes for a second, content as a cat. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Mm hmm,” is Blaine’s response against his hair. No explanation, just that.

It’s hard for Kurt not to ask what was going on. He really wants to know. There are _costumes_ involved.

But Blaine seems happy enough that Kurt isn’t all that worried, just curious, and since Santana comes over to join them a minute later, Kurt edges over to give her room to sit next to them and lets it go.

 

The third time is when it starts to get alarming.

Kurt’s climbing the stairs to their apartment with a bag of groceries in his hand when he hears a loud if familiar burst of laughter above him in the stairwell and then the pounding of a couple of sets of footsteps coming toward him. He presses himself closer to the wall and stops to let his friends pass.

First Sam and then Blaine - and wow, that outfit should not be attractive and yet it does something funny to Kurt’s stomach - come thundering down the stairs in full costume. Someone dressed in all black with a sparkly eye mask and cape is right behind them.

“ _Elliott_?” Kurt says, gaping at the familiar profile and head of dark, fabulous, and currently glitter-covered hair.

“Shh, don’t give away my secret identity,” Elliott tells him with a wink.

Kurt stares at the three of them as they stop a step or two above him. “What is going on?” he asks. He looks down the stairs and realizes there’s only one place they could be going. “Are you going _outside_ like that?”

“The new issues are in at the comic book store,” Sam tells him in a voice Kurt cannot for the life of him place. It must be one of his new impressions. He clearly needs to keep working on it.

Kurt shakes his head; the comic store is _four blocks_ away. “But - “

“We’ll be back soon,” Blaine says, patting Kurt on the arm. “Sam wants to get the new Black Widow before it sells out.”

“I’m just in it for the applause along the way,” Elliott admits.

“I - “ Kurt starts, though what he could possibly say to three of his friends wearing _costumes_ out on the streets of New York he doesn’t really know. They’re going to get laughed at. They’re going to get beat up. They’re going to get photographed for Humans of New York before he is by Bill Cunningham.

“Come on!” Sam clatters down a few more steps. “The Blond Chameleon doesn’t have time for questions!”

“But - “ Kurt starts again, but Sam and Elliott thunder down the stairs and leap over the last few to the floor below, Blaine following more slowly behind them.

“See you later!” Blaine calls back to him and with a wave and an impressive swirl of his cloak he disappears after them, out into the New York street.

Kurt stares after them for a minute before he turns around and heads up toward the apartment. “Okay, I definitely need to get some answers,” he mutters to himself. “This is getting ridiculous.”

 

The fourth time it’s a little sweet.

Kurt is just finishing up his yoga routine when he’s startled out of his serenity by a loud crash outside in the hallway. He relaxes out of his mountain pose when Sam and Blaine - in costume, of course - come inside carrying the big tool box he keeps under the sink. They’re both rather soggy, leaving behind small drips of what Kurt sincerely hopes is water as they walk, and Blaine has what looks like a plastic-wrapped plate of homemade cookies tucked under one arm.

“Do I want to know?” Kurt asks.

Blaine’s shoulders drop unhappily when he sees him, and Sam’s the one who answers.

“We were outside working on our plan for places the city should install new lights for safety when Mrs. O’Keefe came home, so we helped her carry up her groceries. But when we got to her apartment we saw that her lock was broken, so we got a few tools to fix that for her, and _then_ all we could hear was her dripping sink, so we got the _rest_ of the tools to fix that.”

“You do realize this building has a super, right?” Kurt asks, watching Blaine put away the tools. “Someone who is paid to fix things?”

“Yeah, but we were there,” Sam says. “And we’re superheroes. It’s our job.”

Kurt opens his mouth to argue that they are only _pretending_ to be superheroes, closes it, and decides he really doesn’t want to get involved. “Let me get you two some towels so you won’t have to continue to save the world looking like drowned rats.”

“Thanks!” Sam says. “You’re the best.”

Grabbing two clean towels from the bathroom, Kurt hands one to Sam and follows after Blaine when he retreats silently to their bedroom. “Are you okay?” he asks when they’re alone.

“I’m fine,” Blaine says. He strips off his dripping cloak and holds it in front of him for a moment before folding it over his arm. He starts to pull off his wet gloves.

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest. “You don’t seem fine. You’re barely looking at me.”

Blaine’s eyes rise to Kurt’s face, and now Kurt can see the embarrassment in them. “I just didn’t want you to know we made such a mess of the sink before we figured it out,” he tells him with an awkward smile. “The first instructions we googled were all wrong for the kind of faucet she has. But we did get it. No more dripping!” His smile slides a little sideways. “Except for us.”

“Okay,” Kurt says slowly. “Although I don’t know why you’d think I’d expect you to be good at plumbing to begin with.” He shakes his head, because that’s hardly the point. “I don’t understand any of this, really. I thought you said this was a superhero club, Blaine. One where you dress up and run around with your friends. You can’t tell me you were doing plumbing repairs at McKinley.”

“No, but we did a food drive,” Blaine says, getting his gloves off and folding them together. “We were trying to do good deeds there, too.”

“Which now include fixing sinks?”

“It did today,” Blaine replies with a shrug, like it’s just that simple. “We got cookies out of it.”

Kurt lifts a hand to toy with the ornamentation across Blaine’s chest, looks into his good-hearted, somewhat worried face, and can’t help but smile. It’s all ridiculous, it really is, but Blaine means so well. It’s so sweet. Kurt can’t be upset about that.

“So being Nightbird is like being a boy scout,” he says, filled with fondness. “Only with gay rights and a better outfit.”

Blaine’s eyes flash back to Kurt’s face and light up like fireworks. “You like the outfit?”

Kurt looks him over from head to soggy toe. It’s not necessarily what he would have designed, but it is pretty flattering on him; he can see the care put into its construction and knows Tina must have had a hand in it when they were putting it together last year. Blaine could never have made such neat seams. And he never would have known to curve them over his ass just so.

Then again, Kurt’s biased when it has to do with Blaine. He’d be handsome in anything. It’s just a matter of what makes him the _most_ handsome.

He makes an affirmative noise. “I might have some suggestions here and there, but overall it’s a success.”

“I’ll definitely come to you when we reboot our characters, then,” Blaine says with rising excitement. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

“Reboot your characters?” Kurt asks.

Blaine leans in and gives him a quick, happy peck on the mouth. “All the important franchises do it. Artie says we’re due next year. It’ll be so great to have your help with my new look!” He reaches for the fastenings on his costume.

Kurt just nods, holds out a hand to take Blaine’s dripping cape, and has to wonder exactly what he just got himself into.

 

The fifth time it’s just really inconvenient.

Kurt has Blaine pinned beneath him on the couch, Blaine’s bow tie and the first few buttons of his shirt undone enough that Kurt’s mouth can fit there on the hot, lovely skin of his chest. Blaine’s hard and groaning, Kurt’s hard and rocking down against him, and he’s just about to get his hand between them to work open Blaine’s fly when there’s a pounding knock on the apartment door.

“No,” Kurt says, because it’s two in the afternoon, the apartment is theirs for at least another hour, and he really, really, really wants to get his mouth on more of Blaine right now.

“Kurt,” Blaine whines, pulling at Kurt’s shirt, and Kurt realizes with a grin that Blaine probably didn’t hear the knock at all, which means he’s even more turned on than Kurt had realized, which is so _hot_.

Kurt cups Blaine through his jeans, rubbing him with a few rough strokes, and watches Blaine flush and twist with pleasure beneath him.

“Kurt,” Blaine says again and drags him down for a dirty, tongue-filled kiss.

There’s another loud series of knocks on the door. “Blaine, are you here?” It’s Sam’s voice, and Kurt hesitates for just a moment.

Blaine stills, too, and then shakes his head. “No, I don’t care. He probably just wants to play a video game.” His hands start tugging at Kurt’s shirt again, trying to get it off.

“These first,” Kurt says, sitting back on his knees and pulling at Blaine’s belt, because he doesn’t give a damn if he has his own clothes on, but he really needs more of Blaine’s skin right this very second.

Groaning, Blaine lifts his hips up to help him. Kurt’s mouth waters at the sight of a few inches of his belly and the hard, needy line of his cock in his pants. His blood surges through his veins at the eager way he’s moving with Kurt’s touch. Maybe Kurt _does_ want more clothes off. Maybe he wants to take his time and sink into him instead of just suck him down. Maybe he wants - 

“Blaine!” Sam calls again.

Blaine’s hands join Kurt’s on his belt, fumbling to get it open. “Hurry, come on, Kurt.”

Sam pounds on the door in a series of resounding thuds. “Nightbird!”

Blaine freezes and drops his hips back to the cushions, his hands going limp.

“Blaine,” Kurt hisses in warning and a fair bit of dismay, because they can’t just _stop_ , not now. They are so close. They haven’t even gotten to the best parts. His whole body is vibrating with need.

“Just a minute!” Blaine calls toward the door.

Kurt gapes at him, his hands falling hard on Blaine’s thighs. “Blaine!”

“I’m sorry.” Blaine wiggles out from beneath him, wincing a little like his pants are too tight to be comfortable - and it serves him right, Kurt thinks without an ounce of sympathy - and then cupping Kurt’s face and kissing him hard. Blaine’s eyes are dark and heavy with lust when he pulls back, but he still pulls back. “I’m sorry, but this is an emergency.”

Kurt just stares, because he doesn’t know how dressing up as a superhero with his friend can be an emergency, especially not compared with _finishing having the sex they were just in the middle of having_.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says again, and he gets up off the couch, smooths his untucked shirt down to hide his erection, and heads for the door.

Shocked and increasingly angry, Kurt pulls a throw pillow onto his own lap and doesn’t even try to restrain his glare as Sam comes into sight.

“Evil is afoot!” Sam announces. He is, of course, already in costume. “Someone left a box of tiny, helpless kittens in the alley by Dr. Y’s apartment, and we have to get them to a shelter before dark.”

“Who would do that?” Blaine asks in horror.

“Evildoers?” Sam tells him with a shrug, like it’s obvious. “Now, get dressed. The cats of New York need you, Nightbird!”

Blaine nods and rushes immediately toward the bedroom, because of _course_ his friends can’t handle a box of _kittens_ by themselves.

“Hey, Kurt,” Sam says from the doorway with a friendly wave. “How’s it going?”

“Hi.” Kurt grits his teeth, wills his erection to go down, and tells himself Blaine will just have to make it up to him tonight. At great length. Possibly twice.

“Don’t you dare bring home a kitten!” Kurt calls over his shoulder toward Blaine.

 

The sixth time Kurt actually starts to get it.

Kurt opens the front door to find Dani, dressed kind of like Wonder Woman but all in gold, standing with her feet apart and her hands on her hips in the hallway. She even has a shiny gold plastic tiara perched in her hair. “Oh, god, not you, too,” he says, dropping his hand and stepping back to let her inside.

“Lady Sunshine is here!” she announces, holding the pose for a moment before coming in.

“Oh, you look great!” Blaine says, peeking his head out of their bedroom. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He disappears again.

“What’s going on?” Kurt asks.

Dani gives him a condescending pat on his shoulder, tempered by her warm, face-splitting grin. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, handsome,” she tells him. “This is superhero business.”

“I thought this was a McKinley club,” he says helplessly. Blaine had given him a whole speech about keeping old friendships strong and not losing a spirit of play while growing up, and while Kurt had assumed there was something more going on beneath it he kind of also assumed the group would stay small.

“New York’s a lot bigger than Lima,” she says, swishing her cape around a little bit. She looks so delighted it’s hard for him to hold any bitterness toward her getting involved and making this silliness go on any longer than it needs to. “More evil to fight, so more superheroes to fight it.”

“You do realize you’re not actually superheroes, right?” Kurt leans in and asks her in a murmur.

Dani just laughs. “Shh.”

“Lima Heights is ready to kick some ass,” Santana says from the bathroom doorway. She’s dressed in a shimmering body suit with tall black boots and has her hair caught up in a plume spilling down her back.

“ _Really?_ ” Kurt says to her, his eyebrows rising as high as they can go. “You?”

Santana strides over to Dani and gives her a quick kiss. “Any excuse to get my girl in spandex. Besides, I’m always down for going down to the park and picking on some kids.”

Kurt’s eyebrows somehow find a way to rise even higher. “ _What_?”

Dani shakes her head. “We’re going to the playground to keep the high school kids from bullying the little ones on their way home from school. And to play on the swings, because swings are awesome.”

“Really?” Kurt asks.

“That’s the plan, anyway. Mostly we’re just going to hang out together, pretend we know parkour, and be some extra adults around when the elementary school lets out. No promises about what’ll happen if King Kong shows up, though.” Dani mimes an impressive karate kick.

When Kurt thinks about it the way Dani is talking about it, he can suddenly understand why Blaine is so into this whole superhero thing. It’s not just dressing up and foiling all-but-imagined neighborhood plots like who is filling up the building’s dumpster with bags of packing peanuts (someone from down the block) or who is stealing Mrs. Grimaldi’s Sunday newspaper (the guy in 3A) but something more, too, something both childlike and serious at the same time, something he does with friends, something that’s meaningful and real, something that makes him feel like he’s giving back, something that fills a number of spaces in Blaine’s heart.

Oh.

This isn’t just a game. It’s absolutely that, too, but it’s also something else, something kind of _important_.

“Excuse me,” Kurt says and goes to their bedroom.

Blaine’s already in his suit and is struggling to get his cape on, flapping it behind him to get it to fall properly.

“Here.” Turning Blaine to face the full-length mirror, Kurt takes the cloak from him and attaches it carefully into place. He brushes down its length to make sure it’s swinging freely.

“Thank you,” Blaine says with an open smile reflected in the mirror. Somehow he looks taller as Nightbird; maybe he has lifts in his shoes. Or maybe it’s just the alter ego making him stand taller, feel more secure, one of a team with a simple job to do in this crazy, difficult world.

“I see your league of superheroes is growing,” Kurt says from behind him, his hands still resting on Blaine’s shoulders.

“It’s a society, actually,” Blaine corrects. He tugs on his gloves and carefully wiggles them into place.

Kurt tilts his head and watches him in the mirror. “ _I_ don’t have a costume.”

Blaine stills and looks up in surprise. He turns around to face him again. “I didn’t think you’d want one. You’re so busy with school and work and stuff.”

“So are you,” Kurt says. “Do _you_ want me to? I don’t want to push my way into everything you’re doing, but if you’d _like_ me to be a part of it I want to be sure you’ll tell me.”

“Of course you’d be welcome,” Blaine replies, reaching out to take his hands. His gloves are cool against Kurt’s skin, nothing like Blaine’s always-warm fingers. “Any time. I can totally make sure you’d pass the vote to join.” He smiles and looks down at their hands for a second. “But honestly, it’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s not something I need you for.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks.

“Yeah.” Blaine steps in a bit closer, and his smile warms; that knot of worry in Kurt’s chest that Blaine’s been hiding the depth of this from him because he thinks Kurt will laugh or can’t understand unravels and vanishes. Blaine just doesn’t need him to be a part of this way he reaches out to the people and world around him, and that’s okay. “Besides, Nightbird likes having you to come home to after a day of adventure and world-saving.”

“I’m not sure I like being cast as the girlfriend back home,” Kurt says, dry but amused.

“Boyfriend. Nightbird is out in both sides of his identity,” Blaine tells him proudly.

“Fiancé,” Kurt reminds him with a lift of his eyebrows.

“Fiancé,” Blaine agrees. He squeezes Kurt’s hands and lowers his voice conspiratorially. “But we try to keep that part out of the papers. We wouldn’t want you to be too much of a target.”

Kurt lets out a quiet laugh and wonders how many sides of Blaine he’s going to get to see over the years, how many sweet and silly parts of him are left to discover or explore in deeper ways. Blaine might be an open book to him most of the time, but it seems like there are always new chapters to be written.

It makes joy leap and bubble deep in his heart to see it, to know that it’s always going to be wonderful and exciting for him to be with Blaine.

He hopes it doesn’t all include Blaine wearing costumes and leaping over park benches out in public, but that’s a battle for a different day.

“Okay. Well, you go off and fight evil, then,” Kurt says around the lump in his throat. “I’ll stay here and make dinner. Not because I’m the fiancé, but because it’s my night.”

Blaine’s smile spreads across his face, and he squeezes Kurt’s hands again. “I’ll make sure we’re back on time.”

Kurt leans in and kisses him, soft and sweet, and he can’t help the little thrill he feels when Blaine’s cloak floats around them as Blaine pulls him into his arms for a deeper kiss. It’s romantic, really, being swept up in him, held tight in his strong, armor-clad arms, and Kurt has always been one to appreciate a flair for the theatrical. His face is hot and his voice is unsteady when he finally is released and is able to say, “Good. Because it’s your turn to set the table.”

Blaine lifts Kurt’s hand to his lips before he steps back and turns in a beautiful swirl of flowing fabric. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Unless it needs saving,” Kurt says, his stomach still fluttering.

Blaine smiles at him from the doorway, wide and happy, his eyes bright on Kurt’s face. “Not even then,” he promises and blows him one last kiss before going off to join his friends on their next adventure.

Kurt’s fine staying home. He’s happy here. It’s not exactly his kind of flight of fancy, and he has plenty to do.

But, he thinks as he heads toward the kitchen with a smile on his face, maybe one of these days he’ll pull together a fabulous costume of his own and join him, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: I am spoiler-free! Please do not spoil me for anything coming up in the show! Thank you!


End file.
